


Anaerobia

by LittleLinor



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But What If Law Path Happened<br/>A companion to The Art of Pruning</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anaerobia

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Art of Pruning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2704565) by [LittleLinor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor). 



> You can blame Lily and Solar for this. The premise is basically "Kazuya made a deal with the capitol to save Naoya, betrayed 13 and helped crush the rebellion."  
> Full of abuse implications and suicidal ideation.

You wait until the middle of the night.  
In truth, you're still surprised that they've left you "free" at all, that you're allowed to live with him. Maybe they know it's the best way to control both of you; you have a feeling he might have made it a condition to his continued cooperation, thus also binding himself into said cooperation, and as for you, well, with him so close, you can't try anything.  
But that's as long as you care what happens to each other.  
And you do, really, you do, but there's a point where life comes to mean so little against the destruction of personhood. And so many lives have been lost already. What's a little more, when living itself is like nails driven into your hands and feet.  
You wait into the stillness of the night, until the sound of his breathing is so imprinted in your ears you could hear it in your dreams, and quietly cross the room.  
He doesn't move. You almost wished he did, that your plan would be cut short and you wouldn't have to live with the weight of that decision. For what you have left to live, anyway.  
Funny, isn't it, how all your choices have been taken from you since the day your name was called, almost six year ago now. But the only real choice you get to make is the one you least want to.  
But even now... even now he is your weak spot, and you'd rather die than hand him over peacefully to those who used and destroyed both of you.  
Still no movement, not as you walk to his bed, not as you sit on the edge, not as you bend over him.

You wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze.

His eyes open, not frantic with panic but slow, calm, accepting. He was never asleep.

The world tilts around you, like vertigo, like falling on your back with the air knocked out of you. You can't breathe, and still your hands are pressing, clenched on his throat with the rigor of adrenaline. He still doesn't move. Doesn't fight back, like you wish he did, because if he killed you now you wouldn't have to worry about harming him anymore. And with you dead, their last hostage is gone. His hands would be freed. Maybe he could even turn things around somehow. But he's not moving. He looks up at you instead, eyes soft and sad and still full of that suffocating affection you saw in them the day district 13 fell.  
Your vision blurs. Your hands weaken, release some of their pressure, and you hear a raspy, whistling breath scrape through his throat.

You're choking, and it's your own breath that grates out of your chest, out and in, never deep enough, never reaching far enough into you to soothe the shackle on your lungs. So loud, and you almost don't hear his voice.  
"Naoya..."  
So quiet. Fragile, yet even with your hands on his throat it's more steadfast than all of your body and mind put together.  
He shifts, tilts his head back, rubbing his adam's apple against your fingers, but then he frowns, looks away. Looks back up.  
"... I don't want them to kill you."  
He's brought his hand up as he spoke, rested it on top of yours on his neck. Cradling, not pulling away.   
"They'll never let you live if you kill me," he continues. "Where are you going to go?" And he sounds worried, not smug, and _that_ , if anything, makes you want to tighten your hands again.  
He rubs at your hand with his thumb.   
"... I messed up, didn't I? I sacrificed all this to save you... but I still couldn't save what was important." Holds it, tight, possessively. "... I don't care what you do. But I don't want them to hurt you. Not again."  
Your hands tighten again, and you only realise it when he gasps and coughs.  
Not tight enough.  
"You're--you're not gonna listen to me, are you?" He laughs, coughs, drags a breath through the grip of your hands. "Listen--I have--I kept--the pill... in the lining--of my uniform. They'll torture you--don't let them take you alive."  
"Why?"  
The word has already spilled out, and you've released some of the pressure on his neck.  
"Because I love you. You did know that, right?" A second passes, and for the first time you see hurt in his eyes, fear. "... right?"  
"I know." You do, and that's why it hurts so much, that he would have sacrificed the things most important to you for a life you would have cared little about, if it wasn't for him.  
He gives a little sigh, and closes his eyes, relief on his face.   
"Then it's all right. Just don't let them hurt you. That's the one thing I ask." He opens his eyes, smiles a little, like that old teasing grin he would give you. "You'll grant me a last request, right?"  
You hate it, and hate him for asking. But he's right. With him dead, you'd have no reason to hang around to let yourself be tortured.  
"... I promise."  
He smiles and squeezes your hand. Gasps a little, swallows against your fingers.  
"... we could do it together if you want. But I'd still... I'd still like it better if you're alive."  
You consider it. There'd be far worse ways to go, fading away in his arms. Holding him. Escaping this nightmare together, finally.  
"... stay with me, Naoya. One way..." he brings his other hand up to brush your hair to the side, and you know if you took your hands away from his neck he would never let anyone know, would keep protecting you at all costs, even his own identity, "or the other."  
Brings it down to join yours on his neck.

You bend down and kiss him.


End file.
